


Out of Place, Out of Time

by dylanletacis



Category: The Office (US), The Office - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Episode 2x22, F/M, Fluff, Sad, original character narrates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylanletacis/pseuds/dylanletacis
Summary: A stranger observes Jim and Pam in an empty parking lot. Heavily based on episode 2x22 of The Office. A short “will they or won’t they?” drabble, with just the right amount of angst.
Relationships: Jam - Relationship, Pam Beesly/Jim Halpert
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Out of Place, Out of Time

The woman outside my apartment window is leaning into the car, talking to someone. I roll my office chair over to my window and squint down. Through the windshield of the truck, I can make out a man’s face-- her boyfriend, it must be. She’s talking to him with this little grin on her face, and he’s smiling, too, but with just a little less fervor. She pats his shoulder and turns away from the car, and he drives away.  
No goodnight kiss. Interesting.  
She’s walking back towards the big brick building across the street. She’s wearing a sparkly blue dress and heels, her hair twisted up behind her head so it cascades across her neck and back. She looks too pretty, too elegant, to be walking alone in a parking lot at 10 pm on a January night in Pennsylvania. She should instead be attending a gala or a wedding.  
Another man comes out of the building, and when I squint, I can see him smile when he sees her. They’re laughing about something, something she said while I was looking at him. She stops a couple feet away from him. Only a couple. Maybe a little closer than I’d usually stand to someone.  
They’re making quips to each other back and forth; the joke continues. Then, for a moment, neither of them seems to say anything. The man’s face sobers up; I can’t see the woman because she’s facing him, and her head is turned away from me. All I can see is her shoulders shaking in laughter. He says something serious, but I still see the trembling of her shoulders, and she continues the joke. He twists his mouth a little into a wry smile but doesn’t say anything. She stops moving, and her hands go down to her sides. His eyes flick up to her, and he makes eye contact for real this time. I see him say something, the same serious look on his face.  
The woman takes a step away. She doesn’t like what he said. Or, no. Perhaps she does, but she’s scared to admit it. He speaks again. I see her clasp her hands behind her back as she moves further away. He speaks again, and I see her shake her head. I can’t tell if she’s replying verbally or not.  
Then, she whips away from him, and I see her face for the first time. The crease between her eyebrows ages her dramatically, and her lips are parted. She looks pained, as if she had just been punched in the gut. Maybe she has been, figuratively. She’s shaking her head again, and I see her lips move. I try to make out what she’s saying; she’s close enough that I might almost be able to, but my window is too far from the ground. Her lips seem to whip out words faster than he can process them, and he sticks his hands in the pockets of his khakis. He looks down at the ground. When I look back at the woman, she’s finished what she has to say. Hesitantly, slowly, the exact opposite of her previous turn away from him, she looks back at him. Head first, then shoulders, then her full body. Nobody moves; nobody speaks for a moment. The man mutters something and nods, then moves to walk back towards the door he entered this scene from. Before he turns away from me, I see him wipe a hand across his cheek. Perhaps he is crying, but I am too far away, too removed from the situation to know. I suddenly feel like an intruder, but I can’t bring myself to look away.  
He’s walking away, leisurely, as if it doesn’t matter the time or place he’s in. It doesn’t matter where he’s going nor how fast he gets there. He’s just going, and then, he stops. He seems to think for a second. He’s turning around, and he comes back, this time quickly and directly, with purpose, his hands out of his pockets, and as he nears her, they stretch out towards her, and she just watches him, until he’s only a foot away. She throws her hands out just in front of her, at waist level, and I think that for just a second, I see their hands brush. She recoils, pulling her hands into fists and holding them to her body. He’s stopped moving towards her. They stand there for a second, not moving, staring at each other. Then, she darts around him, running towards the door that delivered him, kicking up gravel in the parking lot with her shimmery, argentine heels. She is finally able to escape this moment. She seemed so out of place before, in that parking lot, but now it seems inappropriate for her to leave it. She slides through the door, not looking back. All is as it was. Except this time, the man stands in the parking lot, facing the door. I can’t see his face anymore. I don’t really need to. He just stands there, watching the space that used to hold her. He seems once again without time, without purpose. After a moment, he seems to awaken, and he looks around for a moment, as if trying to find a place to go. He does not seem to find one. Feet planted in the same place, he seems eternal, as if he will live forever in this moment. I suppose that in my mind, he will. I watch him for a moment more before turning back to my work. This was never any of my business, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this forever ago and found it on my computer! I figured I ought to publish it. Let me know what you thought! <3


End file.
